The Heart of Never Never Land
by Rachel Winters
Summary: Update soon! Placed many years after the ending of the first J.M. Barrie novel, this story follows the unique story of the great, great granddaughter of Wendy, the young woman Reese who must help save Neverland from the evil clutches of Hook.
1. Opening

Hello? Hello, I must beg your pardon, but I was wondering…do you see? Do you see the picture before you?

It is quiet splendid, I must say, although I'm not the artist.

But what's this? You do not react. You look confused!

Ah yes! Unfortunately, depending on your age and the contents of your heart and mind, this picture may be blurred, maybe even…blank?

You see, this picture is made specifically for children who are gay and innocent and heartless.

A frown? Is it your age? It's okay, you couldn't help it, for you see, all children, except one, grow up. Unfortunately for you, you were not that one.

However, let me paint this picture for you in a way that you may see and understand. As I said before, it is a quite splendid picture.

Perhaps what catches the eye is the water, for this is a picture illustrating the sea. It is not any that you know, and I regret to say that I have not and will not ever receive the honor of swimming in its depths.

The water is clear and shines with the most glorious of blues and greens.

And there are fish, oh yes, there are fish of quite an exquisite nature. They are the fish of all types, found in the dreams and nightmares of the children who dream of such things. Hmm, there in the corner, there is a flash of a fin, but even after closer examination, I do not know to what creature it belongs to. It could be anything from a crocodile's claw to, perhaps, even the tail of a passing mermaid.

Now watch and you may be surprised to find the changing of the tides hidden in the oils of the paint, for the artist knew what was soon to arise. Watch as the waves become harsh and the sun is hidden behind gloomy clouds that suddenly overtake the canvas.

Watch as the waves grow with rage and the rain begins to poor. Thunder booms and lightening flashes and you are thinking no one would ever dare attempt to sail such waters.

Yet look! Up in the far right side of the canvas a ship appears.

What a majestic ship it is too. See the wooden maiden carved with care at the prow, her eyes closed and arms opened.

The ship rocks back and forth and in the flash of a lightening strike we see the skeleton flag and the name, oh the name I'm rather surprised to see.

In the waters of this unknown sea, the Jolly Rogers has appeared, though no one ever thought it would.

Another flash of lightening and watch as a little boat is lowered into the churning waters of the upset sea.

And I can see you. The painting has captured you already, and you see with your mind because you're eyes will never be able to do the job properly.

And you think "oh surely no one would ever take that out. It would be suicidal!"

Nevertheless, the boat is lowered and five cloaked figures take their seats, rowing against everything.

Now don't fear for them, they know what they do and are doing it willingly. A wave, blue-gray and black, swallows the small boat and sinks back into the sea, only to be replaced again and again by larger and stronger waves, pounding the small boat and its passengers.

They row, and it is unfortunate when one falls over board. There are shouts but no panic. There is movement, but nothing can be done and the five turns into four.

You may wonder why they continue and I must be honest. They expected it…

Now, in the distance an island appears. At first it doesn't seem to be likely and you catch yourself taking a second look. Then, the paint on the canvas dries a little more and you see a great rock arch, a beach, a waterfall, their destination.

The figures, now driven by the sight of their goal, row faster, struggle less and then, suddenly, feeling so close one of the figures reaches out as though he is returning home.

There is a gleam of something precious and deadly that peeks out through the figure's cloaks and catches your eye, but it is gone before you can get a good look.

The boat, you are surprised to see, reaches the rock arch and passes under it and suddenly the waters calm.

They find themselves in a lagoon, protected from the sea by reefs, walls, and rocks.

The rain still pours, no doubt in that, but the men finally can breath. They aren't ones to pray so instead they curse Poseidon and hope for the worse.

One man, the man who reached out, curses the island, for he knows why the waters so wished to reject and repel them.

He knows the land and has seen its soul. He knows it fights him to keep what is it, and knows it can't do much now. He knows it is a place not for those like him, not for those like us, who grow blind to such paintings as these because we are grown and you whisper: Neverland.

So you know it? I though you might.

Your eyes shine with a nostalgic gleam and you say only from your dreams.

You're excited now, I can see as you watch the boat approach the beach.

The four figures jump into the water and pull the boat to shore. The sand is wet and easy to overcome.

It's not unexpected when the figures leave their vessel and walk to the waterfall, disappearing behind the fluid curtain.

There is no knowing what happens behind the falls for this is not a cave scene and it is possible that what lies behind the falls is not for us to know right now.

AH! Please, do not touch the painting, it is very fragile. You will see the rest when it is done, but for now we must wait…

Just to let you know, if you saw your face right now, you might not recognize it. You look a little bit younger and your eyes a little bit brighter. I see this all the time, and I must say you are remembering.

Remembering what is up to you, but I think you know already.

You remember a crow and a shining ball of light, and a story and…oh look there!

The figures emerge!

A shudder runs down your spine. You can almost hear the wicked laughter of the man who knows the land.

It's a mad laughter, harsh and scary and really, is nonexistent.

You first see the chest, and then you see the hook, and then you know and then you remember.

The Hook you saw in your nightmares is in this very picture, and you no longer wish to remember. And this happens all the time.

Childhood is meant to be forgotten and you think, "How silly of me to play this childish game with you!"

Yet you hear, despite your desperate attempts at denial, you hear the very clear and precise words of the certain Jas. Hook you no longer wish to remember.

As you walk away, like they all do, you hear four little words that you will have forgotten by morning.

Four little words.

"Just one more piece."

And then, you are gone…

I catch you looking back once more before you turn the corner and you see me and blush like a child before you disappear. Just to let you know, it's not your fault. Adults rarely understand, and like I said, this picture was made specifically for children who are gay and innocent and heartless.


	2. But It's Better If You Do

There was nothing ever particularly special about the Darling family. They weren't rich, they weren't popular, and none of them ever possessed especially high levels of intelligence.

On the other hand, it must be said that this was the view of people who had never really known the Darling family.

In fact, if you knew the Darling family, then you would know that Wendy happened to be quiet special for a girl of her social status, intelligence, and appearance. Now, this is not a story about the young girl, because really, her story has already been told.

However before we dive into the story that is to be told we must learn the history of it.

You see, Wendy Moira Angela Darling was the start of the Darling family adventure for it was her that first played mother for a very special young boy, a boy who never grows up. She was the first one, of course, to meet Peter Pan.

When she was approximately fourteen years of age, Wendy and her two younger brothers, Michael and John, were plucked from their nursery window by the mischievous young boy and taken to the magnificent island of Neverland. Adventures ensued, as did tragedies, heartbreak, joy, as well as a death or two. The Darling children met the Lost Boys, Indians, pirates, a fairy, and even a few mermaids.

Peter's nemesis Captain Jas. Hook and the other pirates of the Jolly Rogers ruined perfectly good houses, destroyed lovely relationships, kidnapped innocent young mothers, and poisoned already simply dreadful medicines. Punches were exchanged and battles were fought and with the promise of "Hook or me this time" the good little children prevailed and the evil pirates were either killed or expelled from Neverland.

And, in the end, the children went back to their little London town nursery (along with a few extra Lost Boys) and a promise was made that it would be Wendy's job to do Peter's spring cleaning.

She did, though some years Peter forgot she was to do it, and eventually (inevitably) Wendy grew up.

She married and had a daughter Jane.

Jane, quite unlike her mother, was recruited by Peter Pan to be the new Neverland spring cleaner once he found out that Wendy had grown and could no longer fly (after forgetting to pick her up for twenty-two years). Jane, however, much preferred to be the first Lost Girl and although she spent most of her childhood trying to live up to the expectations of Peter, never succeeded. Eventually boring with the vain Peter, Jane stopped trying to remain young and grew up.

She married and had a daughter Margaret.

It was almost a decade after Margaret's birth that Wendy passed away and Peter stopped coming for the Darling girls to do his spring cleaning. This always perplexed Jane and Margaret, for they both knew it had been nearly sixty years since Peter had last talked to Wendy. Nevertheless, without ever getting to have her own adventures in Neverland, Margaret left her childhood behind, went to school, became a nurse, and grew up.

She married and had a daughter Alice.

Alice was told of the vain and handsome, the gay, innocent, and heartless Peter Pan yet never actually met him and was the first Darling girl to fail to do so since Wendy. Alice, who always felt terribly angry about that fact, rebelled, went to school in North America, and eventually (though it was many years late) grew up.

She married and had a daughter Reese.

Now Reese was quiet different than all the other Darling girls. First off, she lost the English accent and gained an American one. She also, from the beginning, denounced all possibilities of the existence of Peter Pan and killed quiet a few fairies during her fits by claiming that fairies did not, in fact, exist. She would do this for two reasons. First she knew it hurt her mother dearly and second, she knew it was the only way she could get her way and because she really didn't believe in fairies, there was no harm done…to her. It was a terrible disaster that Reese, who also liked to wear pants and hated dresses, tried to grow up entirely too fast.

She also hated the name Darling. Her full name was Reese Moira Angela Darling-Montgomery (Alice used Moira Angela Darling because she felt it imperative to keep up the family names in her offspring, of which she shared with her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother), however, Reese usually signed her name as Reese M. A. Montgomery and I'm sure I don't have to tell you how heart breaking it was to Alice that Reese simply left out the Darling all together.

Let me say now, dear reader, that it is Reese with whom we start our current story at.

You see, she grew up without ever really being a child. Her first words were "stop that", which she used regularly when her mother would tell her fairy stories or ridiculous fantasies of Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Hook, and Neverland. She used it when she felt her peers were being immature, and when she decided the adults she was forced to contend with needed to do a little growing up themselves.

At a very young age Reese found it was easier to succeed at life through hard work, dedication, and receiving a proper education. She was sure it was personally demeaning to publicly humiliate oneself by dancing or singing, and was horrified by the thought of being lazy by playing with dolls or other little children because she felt it achieved nothing.

Although she did love her, Reese did not like her grandmother, who insisted that every time Reese visited London, she should spend all her hours in the nursery being told of Peter Pan, instead of being allowed to explore the historical landmarks and educational museums the area had to offer.

Reese also found it hard to be around her mother, who was, at the prime age of forty-four, absolutely, insanely convinced Peter Pan was non-fictional and was determined her daughter feel the same way.

She was not quiet, nor was she shy. She had many friends of whom she would spend her free time with and was well liked by her teachers and peers. She was voted most likely to succeed, most popular, and best eyes all in one year and liked movies, competitive sports, and most forms of traditional art.

She spent as little of her time as possible at home.

And our story starts at the doorstep of a certain house in London. Reese is eighteen, fresh out of high school, and on her way to a top-ranking university. Alice is forty-four and angry at her daughter for not attempting to hold one conversation at all throughout the entire fourteen hour flight to London from California.

"Mother, I was involved in a very interesting book!" Reese said through gritted teeth.

"We had all that time to talk, and you just wasted it away! I don't understand how a book could be more appealing to you than your own mother."

"Oh, I do," the young lady said under her breath.

Her mother sighed and turned toward the street, obviously pretending to not hear her daughter's comment so as not to appear angry when her own mother answers the door.

Reese pressed the door buzzer several times. Her grandmother would be able to occupy some of her mothers time.

The door opened and the short Margaret appeared, white haired, smiling, and ready to hear about every aspect of her grand-daughters life.

"Ah, Reese! Look at my grand-daughter! So grown, so mature!"

Reese smiled a warm, fake smile.

"Hello, Grandmother," she said, giving her grandmother a loving hug since she could get away with no less.

Reese stepped aside so Alice could hug Margaret.

"Oh Mother, who look so wonderful!" Alice said.

Margaret always looked wonderful since everything always had to be perfect, from her hair to her toenails.

"And I love your hair!"

Margaret, sometime in the past four years, had changed her hair style.

"Oh and the house looks wonderful!"

Of course it did. It always did.

Reese readjusted one of the bags in her arms and stood somewhat uncomfortably by the front door of the house.

Some random and completely useless (thus no need to mention them) words were exchanged by the mother and grandmother, in which the granddaughter paid no attention to.

"Oh Reese, your room is all ready," Margaret finally said after she had thoroughly discussed the meaning of her life with her daughter (not really).

Just in case there is any confusion as to what room is Reese's, I will say that it is, has always been, and will forever be the nursery.

Reese, feeling no need to argue, gave a curt nod and walked up the stairs to the double door entry of the nursery.

A bed, Wendy's bed in fact, waited at the far right wall Reese, it's blankets pulled back in a very seductive manner that made Reese want to take a nap.

The other two beds, which once belonged to John and Michael, were made and sadly empty, save for an old top hat (the one John took to Neverland) on one bed, and a small teddy bear (Michael's favorite) on the other. They were both over a hundred years old.

Reese dropped her suitcases by the doorway and walked into the room. It smelled old, the entire house did, and it was comforting, like returning home after a long journey.

The large bay window was open, of course. Margaret did not like it closed. She would sigh, "it makes the room seem smaller" if Reese ever did close it.

Really, however, Margaret found the possibility of locking Peter out to be too much to bear.

So, _just_ in case Peter Pan should return, _just_ in case he should come looking for a new spring cleaner, the window was always open.

It's a strange thing, desire, for you see Margaret desired, more so than anything else in the entire world, to be Peter Pan's new spring cleaner, his new Wendy, even at her age.

Reese found this simply pitiful.

Now, don't worry, she would never exactly say this to her grandmother, but Reese did think it.

A strange wind, the mischievous north wind in fact blew into the room and disturbed all that was light in weight, pieces of paper and such, and danced quickly around Reese. She shuddered.

Winter was fast approaching. It was silly to keep the window opened.

She bundled her jacket around her a little tighter and approached the window. Looking out at the street below, she could she the people of the neighborhood out walking on the peaceful streets. Cars rarely drove down this street.

The song of a distant wind chime drifted into the room, much less rudely than the wind. Reese smiled at the sound. She had to admit, it was ever so peaceful in the nursery, even if she was forced to stay here instead of the guest room across the hall which had its own bathroom.

The chime stopped and Reese closed the window, flipping the lock so the wind wouldn't blow it open.

"Oh Reese, you can close it, but please don't lock it!" Margaret said as she walked into the room.

Reese unlocked the window. "Sorry Grandmother, I didn't want the wind to open it."

"I understand, but you know the window must always be left unlock," Margaret said with her 'I wished you would hurry up and believe' sigh.

"Grandmother, please don't start _that_ yet," Reese requested, "I'm too tired."

To her surprise, Margaret held back the lecture on not believing and simply, painfully, nodded. She left the extra blankets she had been holding in her arms on a rocking chair.

To her surprise, it almost hurt when Margaret simply left the room.


	3. The Missing Frame

(Authors Note) : Hi! Sorry it's taken so long to update you guys but I do have good reason. I've recently moved from my home in Pomona, Ca. to my college dorm in Santa Cruz, Ca. (UCSC) and it's taken a while to get adjusted to my new life and to find the time to actually sit down and write. Even more pathetic, it's a small chapter. Easy read for you though. I hope you enjoy it and I ever so appreciate the comments. Thank you very much! Enjoy! ( that is a command).

Chapter 2: The Missing Frame

Oh dear, could you imagine? It is only chapter two and already, I've failed as the author of this story…

You ask why?

Well, if you don't know, then maybe I shouldn't tell you…but then that would be rather dreadful of me, now wouldn't it.

Let me ask you, do you know what Reese Moira Angela Darling-Montgomery looks like?

Do you know anything about her father (who is just as important as her mother who I've already introduced)?

Is she a good student? Does she know what she wants to do with the rest of her life? Is she naturally smart? Does she think herself brave? Is she tall? Does she treat her body as a though it were a temple? Is she healthy? Does she have a boyfriend? Is she the type of girl who believes in abstinence?

No, you don't know…well this just will not do!

You see, Reese is certainly one of those girls whose character seems to exude a uniqueness that attracts adventure, excitement, and happy endings. Imagine her as a modern day, more functionally sane Alice (the one who went to Wonderland, not mother Alice), or one of those once-upon-a-time, happily-ever-after girls that people seem to like so much.

Physically, Reese was attractive (if she wasn't, we would probably have a problem since stories about ugly people are rarely entertaining). Her hair was of an auburn color that could change drastically depending on the lighting she was in. It was long since she was afraid of the commitment short hair takes, and stayed straight unless tortured with a red-hot curling iron to do other otherwise. She was tall, taller than her mother or grandmother, but not so freakishly tall that she could easily be spotted in a large crowd at a county fair.

She had her mother's noise (small, suiting to her face, and just a bit pointy at the end) and her father's eyes (they were hazel, which meant sometimes they were green, or blue, grey, or brown, though were usually a nice mixture of all four).

If you ever saw a picture of Wendy, you would notice Reese had her lips. The lips were puffy and pink, though during cold days they became a sweet cherry red, and pretending to be perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner was a kiss that neither Wendy nor Reese ever really realized they had.

Reese was slender, never one to overeat, and was, of course, healthy since to not be was very childish. Her hips, waist, and bust were that of a woman, yet sometimes, in her face there was a trace of the disappearing child she didn't want to keep around. It happened to come out when she very relaxed and very happy, but only when she wasn't thinking to hide it. When the child in her did come out, it did so in her hazel eyes, pink lips, and a right-side dimple that was determined to remain with her forever.

Her sense of style was rational. She liked blue jeans in non-formal settings and dresses when the occasion called for them. Her choice of tops ranged depending on the weather and she usually bought only what was fashionable for that season. She could be extremely sexy or boringly conservative and all was done with the contents of her closet.

The girl was good at school, there was no denying that. She would be the one at school who would always be top of the class, who would always turn in her homework on time, if not early, who would always understand the teacher even when the teacher didn't understand herself (assuming the teacher was a her, though the educator could just as well be a he).

This "good-student" mentally Reese had always had (from day-care as a three year old to her senior year of high school) came from her father, James Edward Montgomery. He was well educated, wealthy, and from one of those "old-money" families in southern America. He loved his daughter dearly and was very fond of Alice though, because of long hours at work, seemed to be completely unable to keep hold of the love he had once had for her. They both knew it and it was a shame that neither tried to do anything about it. Reese wondered what would happen after she left to study at her University, and knew there was a good chance that the relationship would break apart completely after the glue that held them together (meaning her) was removed.

He was extremely proud of his daughter who was able to be virtually perfect and mature. While his friends at the office complained of confused, depressed, misled, angry teenagers at home he only had good things to tell and heard "You are so lucky to have such a wonderful daughter," more than any other father in the world.

Like always however, the office was in serious need of him and so he could not accompany the two ladies of his life on their trip to London town to see his dear mother-in-law.

Reese wasn't mad however. She was past being mad. There was no point to it anyway.


End file.
